driftfleet | one ○ video / action

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caesar anthonio zeppeli

one ○ video / action

Who: Caesar Zeppeli and your face
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: Friday and Saturday before the shuffle!

[All things told, Caesar does not spend a lot of time on introspection when he arrives on the Marsiva. He takes a few moments to look at the stars - astonishingly bright and close, almost frighteningly so, when you're used to cities, or being too busy to look up and see the space that God made - and then looks away. For fear of being overwhelmed, maybe, or because he has other things to do.]

[Though he can't begin to imagine what they are. What do you do after you've died?]

[When he figures out how to access the network, he doesn't hesitate at all. Hesitating means thinking, and if he thinks too much about this his voice will come out weak, lost, confused. He is a Zeppeli; that would be unforgivable.]

[So it comes out strong, full, his syllables well-rounded and imbued with good humor.]

Buongiorno, all, I - seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere around Mars. I don't suppose anyone has a map?

[He chuckles briefly, then sombers. There's information in his head that he doesn't know the source of, but he can guess.]

There are many people trapped here. I know that much already. I know what is happening. What I don't understand is why.

[Or what is to be done about it. (Although where would he go, if he wasn't here?)]

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[This hug doesn't last as long. It still feels like he's choking a little bit, Joseph's presence reminding him of everything that's happened. In a way, it was easier sitting alone. He wasn't really feeling anything then. Now he's pretty sure he's feeling everything.]

[When he pulls away, he looks at Joseph seriously for a moment, one hand resting on each of his shoulders. He wants to ask - did you get it? The ring? Did you survive? Did you win? But he bites the inside of his cheek and doesn't. Joseph isn't asking about then, he's asking about now. Maybe Caesar should take the cue, for once.]

An hour, maybe. Not long.

You've--?

[His question turns to dust on his tongue; he doesn't even know what he was going to ask. Just tightens his fingers in Joseph's shirt and shakes his head.]

[Maybe they should start fighting, that would make this a lot easier.]

[An hour. An hour isn't that long, Caesar's right. It also seems way too long at the same time, but Caesar's right and Joseph knows it. He won't let himself overreact even if things feel a little raw right now.]

[And when Caesar's question dies before it's even spoken aloud, Joseph realizes he's being incredibly self-centered right now. Caesar must be just as confused as he is and probably with infinitely more questions. He's just a lot less likely to ask them and Joseph would like to pretend that's out of his stupid, stubborn pride rather than the alternative. So he tilts his head a little.]

I've...?

[This is stupid. It's really stupid. If Joseph's here, then that means they're both alive, because he refuses to accept the possibility that Joseph might be dead. He wouldn't have lost, not after everything. And he had Lisa Lisa with him. It's fine.]

[Caesar presses his lips together, shakes his head mutely. He doesn't know, he really doesn't. And it's not that he's afraid, it's just that - if he doesn't come up with some kind of question to ask right now, the silence is going to stretch too long, and they'll both be remembering, and neither of them wants to.]

[So. Make something up.]

[He half-smiles and dusts off Joseph's shoulders, letting go even though he doesn't really want to.]

Did you see the sky?

[We're here now. Forget it.]

Did I see the sky?

[Joseph rolls his eyes as though that's the dumbest question he's ever heard. The tears have slowed, but they haven't stopped quite yet. Still, he's got a smile that's edging closer to a grin as he turns Caesar back around to look out the window. He steps beside him and rests an elbow on Caesar's shoulder, forcing him to either hunch or stoop a little.]

We're beyond the sky, dumbass. We're in space. [And there's that grin as Joseph says the word space with childlike glee. This should probably be a terrifying prospect being out here and being alone (even together) like this, but it's so much more than Joseph thought possible. Pushing aside everything else, how can he not be excited?] I keep telling you, you gotta read more comic books. You'd know this stuff otherwise.

[Or, you know, reading regular books works, too. Joseph's just potentially allergic to regular books is all. Give him pictures or give him death! Or expect him to fall asleep not even halfway through and end up drooling on the pages. Same difference when you think of how soundly he can sleep.]

[There. That's better. That's Joseph. The smile feels less forced, now, even with Joseph manhandling him. He shoves him in the side with his elbow, but lets him get away with it otherwise, because it's a comforting kind of idiocy, and it's better fight about something inconsequential than think too hard.]

Oh, you're an expert on space because of comic books. Okay. Tell me all about space, then.

[He isn't immune to fear. This is insane. He isn't dead, but he's in space, which should make him double dead. But it's really hard to be too worried right now.]

No, it'd be way over your head.

[...Which is to say that Joseph does not know pretty much anything outside of Superman comics when it comes to space and that is (mostly) made-up. But you watch him bullshit here like he actually has one over Caesar right now.]

[Joseph does start looking around some though.]

I wonder where the controls are to this thing anyway. I wonder if I could figure out how to fly it. How cool would that be?

[Caesar just gives him a Look. This is crap and he knows it's crap and he knows Joseph knows he knows it's crap. Also he thinks that may have been a pun, which means that he is developing a headache.]

[Which intensifies at the thought of Joseph flying something this big.]

Don't do that. I already died once.

[Wow, that may have been a smidge too soon.]

[Joseph pales and recoils almost immediately after the words leave Caesar's mouth, his elbow leaving Caesar's shoulder as he takes a half-step back. People often talk about words feeling like a punch in the gut, but Joseph never really thought that was real until now. He feels like he might throw up. He has to clench his jaw and breathe slow to keep it down, his nostrils flaring as he looks away.]

Don't joke about that.

[All of the humor has evaporated from Joseph's voice, his brow furrowed. His fists have clenched tight at his sides without his awareness. It hurts hearing Caesar say that. Neither one of them until this moment had really openly acknowledge that Caesar died. Joseph wasn't stupid enough to think that it would last forever or even for more than a few minutes, but he didn't think it would come out like a joke like that. But it did and now he feels it begin to bubble and roil; everything he's had bottled up beneath the surface as he narrowly focused on vengeance, on making Caesar's death mean something and not just be pointless bloodshed. The loneliness, the sadness, and yeah, the anger, too.]

[He has to step away further, put that space between them because, of course, it's the anger Joseph latches onto the quickest without even trying. He doesn't want to feel the rest. The rest is just passive emotion that leaves him feeling hollowed out, but anger is something he can do something with. It doesn't make him feel so goddamn useless and helpless. But he doesn't want to lash out at Caesar, so he takes those steps away and he lashes out at the wall instead. Just one solid strike hard enough that it makes his knuckles ache (one or two probably split a little) underneath his glove, and he can feel the reverberations travel all the way up his arm, not stopping until they reach his shoulder.]

[Which means his arm hurts now, but it's soothing in its own way. Joseph turns again and to look at Caesar before stepping back over to him, grabbing him by the shirt with both hands. Everything just starts to spill out.]

You're unbelievable, you know that? You could have just told me! I get that it was your fight, but you didn't have to do it alone! [For a moment, it looks like Joseph might hit Caesar, but at the last second, Joseph shoves Caesar away instead. His breathing is ragged now. He's withdrawing again. No less angry, but far less explosive for the moment.] All you had to do was wait, you stupid asshole. Why couldn't you just tell me?

[He doesn't mean for it to sound like a plea, but that's what his question becomes. As much as he can understand of why Caesar did what he did, Joseph also can't wrap his head around it. He hasn't had time to sort through the pieces of Caesar's death, the moments leading up to it or after. So, everything is simply a blur and what little he can grasp, he tries for. What he can't? It just pisses him off. So, he's left with a mess he can't make coherent or complete sense of, and a hole that can't be ignored or filled. He can't stop himself from feeling anger towards himself for not seeing it sooner, for not being there. He feels like Caesar let him down by dying--which always stirs feelings of guilt that Joseph is already starting to feel the edges of for his outburst--but he feels like he let Caesar down by not being there, too.]

[Joseph knows what it's like to feel loss. He knows that feeling when he thinks of his parents. But those people aren't even ghosts. They're something else shaped by the memories of people like his grandmother and Speedwagon. This is something completely different only made even more out of the ordinary by the fact Caesar is living and breathing right in front of him once again. But even without that part, he doesn't know what to do with that this kind of loss because he's never felt it before.]

[He regrets it the second he says it. Of course he does. And it's ironic, isn't it, because usually it's Joseph who does this - who sticks his foot in his mouth at the least opportune times.]

[But he's shaken. He's scared. Quietly so, but more than he thinks he's ever been in his life. He wasn't scared when he was fighting. He wasn't scared at the end, so why now? Maybe it's because he's safe - because he's allowed, finally.]

[It shouldn't have been Joseph, though. Somebody else. Somebody he doesn't care about. Some stranger.]

[The only sign that he even notices Joseph hitting the wall is a tensing of his shoulders, a tightening of his lips. He watches, and wonders if he's bleeding, and stays silent.]

[He stays silent when Joseph grabs him by the shirt, still and silent and stupid. There's a prideful tip to his chin. He wouldn't understand, he thinks. So he doesn't want to try to explain. It would hurt too much, and it would make him angry, and if they're both angry--]

[He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want to. He just wants to be alive again. Five minutes, right? Just five minutes.]

[When Joseph shoves him away, he stumbles slightly, then meets Joseph's gaze with that pride burning bright behind his eyes. He isn't sorry. Guilty, but not sorry. He can't imagine himself ever making a different choice, no matter how many times he had it to do over again.]

There wasn't time. To tell, or to wait.

[What he means is I wasn't ready. He's still not ready, really. No one should have told. He understands why, but it wasn't theirs to tell. It's his story. His family. His fight.]

Bullshit! [he snaps.]

[But that's all Joseph can say. He's too angry at this point to say anything further, to debate it. And frankly, he doesn't want to hear any further bullshit reasons of why. Not that he thinks the truth would sit any better with him because it feels a little like betrayal. Betrayal that Joseph's not even sure he has a right to feel, but that doesn't make it less true.]

[He steps closer to the window, resting his forearm against the glass, his hand in a loose fist, and his forehead against his arm. The coolness of the glass soothes some of dull throb still pulsing through his arm. For a long time, he stays like that with his eyes closed, focused on his breath. It's not enough to remove the tension, but it keeps him still.]

It was one-on-one between him and me. [He's pissed, but Caesar deserves to know. So, he tries to at least tell him that much. He doesn't open his eyes or lift his head though.] I didn't take the antidote until it was over, but Wham is dead.

Lisa Lisa will fight Cars for the stone. That was the deal.

[His stomach hurts. It's almost funny. It's a sign that he's alive, and Caesar doesn't want it. He watches Joseph out of the corner of his eye, breathing through his nose. He is angry. He's sorry, but he's angry, too. Joseph is being selfish.]

[They're both being selfish.]

[His shoulders relax. Oh, good, he thinks, you didn't die, but he's not fool enough to say it.]

Why?

[A moment; then he clears his throat.]

Why did you wait?

[Joseph is silent for what feels like a long time, but really it only lasts for a brief few seconds. He's not sure if it's because he's reluctant to say now because with Caesar here it might seem a little silly, a little childish to have held onto what little pieces of Caesar remained that he could hold onto or because Caesar has held back so much from him, so wouldn't it be fine for him to hold this to himself?]

[But no, Joseph is not that spiteful. He's never been that sort of person to seek revenge like that or be petty that way.]

That ring was my promise to you, not to Wham, to keep fighting and to live. [Joseph's voice is low and uncharacteristically serious. He opens his eyes and lifts his head this time, resting his mouth against his arm as he purses his lips. He turns his head after another moment to look at Caesar a little over his shoulder.] Besides, it was your fight. I knew your spirit wouldn't be able to rest until it was finished. So I kept you with me and made sure you were there.

You saved my life one last time. And then we finished it. Together.

[Like we were supposed to, he thinks, but doesn't say aloud. He's pretty certain Caesar doesn't share that opinion. He's too stubborn and too proud to accept help. It was only in death, when he wasn't left with much choice, that he finally did.]

[Joseph looks back out the window. He supposes normally, after killing Wham, that would be the point where he'd start to let Caesar go and let the memory of him rest. And yet here he is. Here they both are. His lips curve slightly in a hollow smile, neither filled with genuine joy nor even with bitterness. It figures Joseph would find some way to screw that up, too. At least he managed the important part. Or what he considers the important part.]

[Oh.]

[He doesn't know what he expected. Some logistical reason, not that. Joseph has never seemed sentimental to him until now - not particularly grounded in reality, either, but not sentimental.]

[It's only now that it hits him, what this means. How much hurt there is that's going unsaid. Joseph wouldn't have done that, wouldn't have waited, wouldn't be saying it like this - we finished it. Together - unless he was aching.]

[Caesar still wouldn't take it back. But the chasm of guilt is growing, and he has no idea what to do about it.]

[An apology is on the tip of his tongue. He swallows it down, staring past Joseph at the stars. Apologies mean he was wrong. He doesn't believe he was wrong. He just didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not Joseph.]

[He takes a step forward, another one. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that Joseph can see him out of the corner of his eye.]

Are you bleeding? Your hand.

[Joseph glances just briefly at Caesar once he gets closer, but otherwise keeps his gaze fixed at the quiet and seemingly endless dark beyond the window. He tests his hand, clenching his fist a little tighter. There's an acute and noticeable sting as tears in skin are pulled on, but he doesn't make a face and the only change in his breathing is subtle enough that Caesar would have to be acutely aware of it to notice. He loosens and relaxes his hand, lowering his arm back down to his side.]

I'm fine.

[It's not really what Caesar asked per se, but it's not oozing blood. He sarcastically thinks he'll probably keep the hand, but doesn't make the joke out loud. He doesn't feel much like making jokes anymore.]

[He snorts, and somehow makes it sound delicate.]

No, you're not.

[He's angry and hurt and fragile, lost in a strange place, unsure of what the future holds. They both are. Just because Caesar is stubborn doesn't mean he's stupid.]

[He takes another step forward and leans against the window, his expression impassive, shuttered.]

Just because I didn't tell you that--

Just because I didn't tell you, doesn't mean you have to lie to me.

[Joseph's gaze drops down to the floor. He can't even say it now. Even when Caesar knows that Joseph was given the truth, he can't say it out loud. If Joseph were thinking straight, less muddled and riddled with emotion, he'd probably see it as just something Caesar can't talk about regardless because it's yet another kind of loss he's survived. But he can't help but take it personal and feel the sting of it all the same as Caesar corrects himself.]

That part isn't for you, [he replies, blandly. He's not in the mood to joke around and yet, his mouth starts to open to make one almost reflexively. Joseph closes it before he can say anything though.]

[With his uninjured hand, he rubs at his eyes. They feel itchy and raw, the whole of him at this point feeling exhausted. He's not quite sure when his anger lost its energy, but he already misses it.]

[There's a long moment of silence when Caesar doesn't try to think of something to say. He isn't good at this, but he knows people. He knows when to stop, even if it's only for a moment.]

[And he shouldn't push his luck - shouldn't say anything. For all he knows, they'll be separated soon. They'll be able to avoid each other, if they want to. It's not as if they knew each other that long, really. It's not as if they even liked each other, at first.]

[But the fact is that, other reasons aside, Caesar died for Joseph, and Joseph - let him fight on past his death. Time isn't the important factor here. Sometimes people do unexpected things for you. Sometimes a man comes out of your past and saves your life. Sometimes someone else takes you into the future with him, because that's what friends do.]

[He still wouldn't take it back. But, he thinks, there are better friends in the world; he can acknowledge that much.]

It doesn't matter how angry you are at me. [His voice is quiet, low, raw.] I'm not leaving.

[Because there is no one else here for him; because he wouldn't want anyone else, anyway. Because, maybe, he owes him some solidity.]

[Joseph can't help but feel the pang of guilt and shame when Caesar lays out Joseph's anger so plainly. You're not supposed to think that way about the dead, certainly not when they're a friend. (And Caesar is. He's a friend regardless of his stupid, selfish decisions, or how angry Joseph gets with him.) At least, that's what he's always been taught. He doesn't think of having a right to even a fraction of that anger. And so, that guilt that has been ghosting along the edges of his anger seeps in, overshadowing and overtaking it.]

[He's being selfish and unfair to Caesar. Caesar lost everything. And it's just not Joseph's to feel entitled to like that.]

[So, he lifts his head again and looks Caesar square in the eye, and then,]

You leave and I'm just going to follow you again anyway. [He grins. He doesn't quite feel it. The guilt still rests low in his belly, but he's out of anger at least for now. He's out of a lot and so even a grin that's a little more fake than usual feels better than nothing. He can be selfish about that, he thinks, without feeling guilty about it.] I don't care how much you complain or try to insult me.

[His arm comes around Caesar's neck and pulls him over.]

I'm staying with you from now on. You better get used to it.

[He can tell that it's a push. He would be able to tell even if Joseph was better at faking this kind of thing. As it is, he sees that Joseph's trying and appreciates it, especially since he's about all out of patience himself. He's got a limited supply at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.]

[Things seem a little easier when Joseph pulls him close, though - if not normal then approaching normal, if not right then at least better. He's used to being manhandled by now, and elbows Joseph in the side again, but not as hard as he could if he wanted to.]

There are worse prospects.

[Like dying alone. Like leaving things behind, unfinished.]

[Because he's stuck with him, and because he's in a headlock, and because he can and he wants to, he leans his head on Joseph's shoulder. When he breathes out, it feels like a weight of tons lifts off his shoulder, the stones lifted, time reversed. He is still afraid, will be afraid, but he's not alone anymore.]

I'll help you find the controls, if you're that set on it.

[It's only a minute fraction, but his grin is a little more sincere at Caesar's answer. He's not thinking of the actual worse prospects. Thoughts like that, right now, are banished. All he thinks is that he got one of his best friends back.]

If I'm that set on it... [Joseph rolls his eyes again. Joseph tightens his grip and Caesar is getting himself a good old-fashioned noogie.] Are you kidding me!? I'd get to fly a spaceship. Who the hell wouldn't want to do that? I wonder if spaceship pilots get a hat. Better not be a helmet, that would completely screw up my hair.

[Says the guy currently wrecking the hell out of Caesar's hair with his noogie until he's forced to stop.]

[Oh, for fuck's sake. If it's not one thing with him, it's another. Again with the elbow in the side, harder this time, aiming to bruise if he can manage it.]

Let go or I'm throwing you into space.

[Not that he can actually be that mad about this. From his perspective, it's been just a few hours since he saw Joseph last, but it still feels as if there's been a great time gap. This is very reassuring Joseph-y behavior, all things considered.]

[Which does not mean Caesar won't punch the shit out of him if he doesn't let go.]

[There is a pause in the noogie when the elbow strikes Joseph in the side and he grunts. But he sure as hell isn't letting go. He just simply turns his back to Caesar and yep, he starts right up again.]

Were you not listening earlier? I'd just end up taking you with me, Caesarino.

[He's now definitely teasing and antagonizing on purpose. This is better. Easier. Much more the way it should be.]

[It's times like these when Caesar really regrets the couple of inches Joseph has on him. Twisting in his grip, he strikes out for whatever's closest - stomach, back, sides - and glares daggers up at him.]

Fine. Let go or I'll shave your head while you're sleeping.

[This is up there in Caesar's threat arsenal along with promises of actual murder.]

[Joseph does what he can to avoid the punches, but he's limited if he wants to keep hold of Caesar. Thus, Caesar is managing to pummel Joseph pretty good in retaliation. For the most part, Joseph just laughs it off, but there's a punch or two that cuts the laughter off at least for a few moments before he can start up again.]

You couldn't do that. I'd wake up the second you tried anything.

[And yet, Joseph is letting go now. Hmm...]

[See, he knows Joseph's weaknesses. Pulling away slightly, he huffs and runs his fingers through his hair to fix it, glancing at Joseph with a mutinous look and doing an excellent job at hiding his relief. The guy can't be that hurt if he's performing noogies that serious with his injured hand. Which is good, because otherwise Caesar was eventually going to make him take his damn glove off to make sure he hadn't busted his knuckles.]

You wouldn't. Don't underestimate me. You'll regret it.

[Despite his intense desire not to be noogied again, he doesn't move too far away. Just crosses his arms defensively and stands shoulder to shoulder with Joseph, chin tipped up in mock-defiance.]

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